


15 Tenacious Years

by IvyPrincess



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Angst and Humor, Based on a Vocaloid Song, Crack Treated Seriously, Established Relationship, M/M, One Shot, knife shoes appreciation society, more like serious treated like crack, you might not find it funny though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 06:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15042878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvyPrincess/pseuds/IvyPrincess
Summary: Persistence was key.





	15 Tenacious Years

**Year 1**

Today again, Yuzuru found himself staring at a blank page. It wouldn't be blank for long, he thought determinedly, rolling his sleeves up and flicking ink all over his elbows. Sheet after sheet of cramped text flowed from his fingers, fluttering to the ground like his heart did whenever he saw _him_. He knew the stamps would taste awful, but after so many continuous days of preparing envelopes, he'd gotten used to it. Time to mail another letter, he thought.

* * *

**Year 2**

Saya burst into his room. "Why do I smell smoke… YUZURU!" She screeched, rushing to his desk to pat out the flames flickering over his feet. An overturned candle sat next to his arm, happily pooling wax between his elbow and the desk itself. Saya frantically grabbed the comforter from his bed and tossed it over Yuzuru, but all that did was make the flames grow larger. Throughout his sister's panic, Yuzuru did nothing but continue to furiously write, pen scrawling across the paper in front of him until his sister bodily dragged him away. When the firefighters finally came, the house was ablaze, yet miraculously, Yuzuru and his family were all unscathed. The only remnants of his clothes were a few charred scraps preserving his modesty, but he had nary a burn on him. The neighbors certainly got an eyeful.

* * *

**Year 3**

Hm, he supposed he might as well post his letters online. Technology was all the rage these days, after all. It would be nice to proclaim his love to the entire world. Maybe _he'd_ see, too. Were the numbers supposed to be so high this early? There weren't even ten billion people on the planet, right? Oh well, the more exposure the better.

* * *

**Year 4**

"Yuzu, this is amazing!" Brian Orser leaned back in his chair, delightedly flipping through the manuscript the young man had handed him. "We'll publish it immediately. Can you do any other genres? Social issues are good to write about these days." The publication that came out stayed #1 on the New York Times Best Seller list for a solid 8 months, despite being poorly translated from Japanese to English by underpaid and sleep-deprived interns, and technically shouldn't even have qualified for the list, considering it was a magazine article. Titled "A Love Confession to Controversy", critics claimed the book "skillfully wove a tapestry of teenage love letters and real-time politics to appeal to all age groups".

* * *

**Year 5**

Yuzuru stared back at the crowd of young women who were eagerly anticipating his next words. Had one lady swooned in the back? "My ideal type? Someone who can write ten-page love letter responses daily for at least five years." He sat back in his chair, and then leaned forward again as if he had forgotten to say something. The crowd surged forward to meet him. "Also, male." The answering sobs were music to his ears.

* * *

**Year 6**

The nonplussed doctor raised an eyebrow at the bandaged and bound man sitting in bed and scrawling furiously on a cast. "Do I want to know how you ruptured _every organ in your body_ while _writing_?" Predictably, he got no response.

* * *

**Year 7**

The nurses were happy to see Yuzuru go, tired of ordering more paper and ink for him day after day. There was no way he should have been able to go through 10 bottles a day for an entire year. No wonder he had been hospitalized to begin with.

* * *

**Year 8**

"Ah, Yuzuru." Brian strode over to him with a complex expression on his face. "Are you sure you meant to compare your love to… extreme ironing? What does that even mean?"

* * *

**Year 9**

"Yuzuru, please stop using the convoluted metaphors. The general public doesn't know what a glutamate receptor is, nor do they understand why you insist on comparing your love to it."

* * *

**Year 10**

He opened his eyes to a blankly white ceiling. Who was he? (He had hit his head, the doctor said. Retrograde amnesia, the doctor said.)

* * *

**Year 11**

He jolted upright in his own bed, the name tasting sweet as cinnamon on his lips. _Javier_ , his mind sang. _His name is Javier_. Instinctively, he reached for the paper and pen at his bedside. ( _So, that's why it was there_ , he vaguely recognized as his hands flew across the pages again.)

* * *

**Year 12**

Yuzuru hated that he still couldn't remember much. Just flashes of soft brown eyes framed by darker lashes, warm enough to flood through his entire body, tingling at his toes. A smile brighter than the moon, just for him. Strong arms caging him in, safeguarding him from the world as lips drew possessive flushes across his neck.

* * *

**Year 13**

"Yuzuru." Saya looked hesitant as she approached him. This was about _him_ again, wasn't it? He didn't want to talk about it. She knew he didn't want to talk about it. He'll figure it out himself, what had really happened.

* * *

**Year 14**

He had received boxes upon boxes of his own letters from more than a decade ago back. Someone else was living there now, the note said. Could he please stop sending the letters? Legal action would be taken if he kept sending them, the note continued. Where was his Javi? God, he was terrified. If only he could talk to him again. If only he could see him again. _Where are you, my heart?_ He didn't send the letter.

* * *

**Year 15**

He jolted upright in his own bed, the name tasting bitter as the tears staining his cheeks already. _Javier_ , his mind mourned. _His name **was** Javier_. Slowly, he reached for the paper and pen at his bedside. (He remembered now, the happiness as Javier turned to beam at him turning into sheer horror when the massive 18-wheeler slammed straight into them, the shattered glass and disorientation and whiplash as they tumbled for an eternity into the ravine, the bleeding of his palms staining into his love's hair as he begged for him to _please open his eyes, Javi, love, look at me please_. He wished that he hadn't remembered.)

* * *

_My heart,_

_I know these letters won't reach you anymore. I think I knew they wouldn't reach you in the first place, but I had hoped that if you couldn't see me achieve my dreams of becoming the best writer like you so wished, at least I could achieve my dreams with you through these letters. At least there was a chance of these letters reaching you if they stacked up tall enough, tall as my heart soared when I was with you. Although you're not with me anymore, I will still keep loving you. I think I'll stop waiting for a reply, though. One day, when I meet you again, you can tell me everything I've missed. Thank you for the time you've given to me. I'll cherish it forever._

_Yours,_

_Yuzuru Hanyu_

**Author's Note:**

> Based on that one song with various English-translated titles. Here's the version I like: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GdSUMFi5FYE


End file.
